Second Day of Christmas - Sigil of the Dove
by Elsyra
Summary: Second story in the Twelve Days of Christmas series. Memories of days long gone sift into Arthur and Merlin's Christmas Eve dreams. What emotions will they stir up when morning comes? Semi-canon diversion, later modern day AU. Merthur. #Holiday Cheer #BreakfastwithBF #Slash


A/N: Happy Hols to all!

This is the **second** fic in my Twelve Days of Christmas jamboree. It may be read as a stand-alone. If you choose to check out other parts of this series, keep in mind that none of them technically need to be read in order _with the exception of_ days 9 and 10.

Another shout out (with hugs!) to AuroraBorealia, my bestie and beta reader. Now that you have been resurrected for Christmas, I'm afraid you might die from fluff OD. So sorry.

Warning-Do NOT hold me accountable for the cavities and/or diabetes you may develop as a result of this story. Read at your own risk.

Tags: 12 Days of Christmas, Turtle Doves, Fireside Revelations, Banter, Fluff, Slash (M/M)

Enjoy!

* * *

 _On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me_

 _Two turtle doves_

 _And a partridge in a pear tree_

The fire crackled, sending its shimmering sparks up into the frigid night air. Merlin stared at it as hard as he could, if only to find a momentary reprieve. This silent tension, full to the brim with fear and guilt made palpable by his own mistakes-it might just suffocate him to death.

Arthur, thank gods, decided not to let him drown. His low tenor splintered the glassy surface of Merlin's thoughts. "Of all the things I've faced, I've never been worried about dying."

Blinking, Merlin chanced a look his way. "Don't think you should now."

"Sometimes you do puzzle me."

Merlin smiled. He had missed the easy banter between them. There wasn't much room for it since everything came crashing down in their lives. "You never _fathomed_ me out? _"_ he teased.

"No," the young king answered, never missing a beat.

"I always thought if things were different, we would've been good friends."

"Yeah." It was as much as he could expect. He could remain content with the unspoken truth: that they _were_ friends and had been for longer than either of them ever knew it.

"If you weren't such an arrogant, pompous dollophead."

Arthur's laughter brought him far more warmth than their pitiful fire.

"That's what you have to remember," the warlock continued. "Things never turn out how you expect."

As Arthur gazed into the flames, his eyes turned glassy with pain and guilt he couldn't voice. What Merlin wanted most in the world was to take it from him and throw it far away, somewhere it could never plague his friend.

"You'll see," he whispered. Arthur looked up at him once more. "We'll defeat the Dorocha. We will. Together."

"I appreciate that." Clearly, Arthur did not believe him, but he did his best to humor Merlin.

Merlin's eyes followed his king's leather-clad hands as they reached into a satchel on the far side of the fire. He retrieved from it something shiny, brushing it lovingly with his fingertips. Upon further inspection, Merlin made out the dove, beautifully engraved into a pewter circle.

"This belonged to my mother. It bears her sigil. Here."

Suddenly, he was passing it to _Merlin,_ of all people. "Arthur, I can't-"

"Just… Take it," the king-no, his friend-insisted.

They sat there together in companionable silence, awaiting an end to this world of darkness that may never truly come.

* * *

Time passed quickly after Beltane, though no one could forget the unspeakable horrors that Morgana's actions had wrought upon Camelot. The dead had been mourned and buried, the wounds healed and no longer fresh.

For most.

Arthur suspected Gwen might never truly heal. Whether it be the gut-wrenching guilt or the part of her heart that still loved Lancelot, the prince suspected that a part of her heart had died with him. As had their relationship.

That wound too had faded with time. Arthur knew Gwen deserved more than a life with someone should could never fully love. Even more than he deserved to live with a queen who hadn't been selected for him. She truly was a wonderful person. It was time that they move on, coexisting only as close friends. Gwen would become the sister he had once thought Morgana to be. That didn't make it any easier.

As the warm Spring winds began to melt the fallen snow, Arthur's traitorous heart began to let the most dangerous of all things seep in: hope.

He kept his mind off of darker days and lingering duties with frequent hunts. Truth be told, most of his great "hunting" amounted to camping in the woods with Merlin.

Arthur noticed something odd: his manservant _always_ managed to start a fire, even in the wettest and coldest conditions. It was almost eerie. How on earth did he do it when the ground provided nothing but damp excuses for kindling? Arthur's mind wondered.

His eyes wandered.

The first time Arthur really _noticed_ Merlin's firm behind was while he made dinner after one spectacular failure of a hunt. The only thing they had managed to catch was a meager rabbit, and Merlin himself. The idiot had sprung a trap on his own foot and limped for the rest of the day. He seemed to be doing better now. A lot better.

Hot coals from the fire warmed Merlin's pale face with a lovely blush. He made himself busy preparing a stew with the fresh kill, and Arthur found himself unable to complain about the wait. Not when it provided such an exquisite view.

That time, Arthur pretended it was the warm cider Merlin had packed in his canteen.

The next time, Arthur's mind insisted it was because he had gone so long without some action.

After than, the young prince didn't bother making excuses.

Once, Merlin had even caught him. "Is there something on my trousers, sire?" he asked, his long, dark lashes blinking to create the picture of blithe innocence.

Forced to make something up on the spot, Arthur pointed to his servant's belt. "What's in that pouch you've got there?"

Merlin looked down at his side and grinned, reaching into the ragged leather satchel. From it, he produced two items and held them tightly in his fists. Palms downward, he held his hands out towards Arthur. "Guess."

In his left, Arthur could see the silver poking through; it was too big a trinket to hide, even under Merlin's long, elegant fingers. "That's the sigil. You carry it with you?"

"Always." Merlin put it back and opened his other hand.

Arthur made a face at the petrified hare's foot. "You claim you hate eating rabbits, yet you keep a piece of one next to you."

"Gaius gave it to me!" Merlin squawked, proudly defending his ugly keepsake. "It's for good luck."

"Explains why you're still alive." Arthur snorted and reached out to ruffle Merlin's dark hair. He liked when Melin grew it out; it was such a shame he planned to cut it soon. If Merlin noticed his fingers lingered a bit too long at the nape of his neck, he didn't mention it.

That snowy day seemed so long ago now. Only two weeks remained until Arthur's birthday and he intended to savor them. His birthday was always such a gloomy affair, and this year would be no different. Perhaps that was why Merlin didn't argue when the prince dragged him outside in the mud to hunt waterfowl.

Arthur tried not to laugh-and failed miserably-at Merlin's haggard complaints. He hated bird hunts the most after deer. The blonde intended to make him eat his words (quite literally) once they had a fat, juicy duck on their plates for dinner.

His plan backfired because the sight of the duck made Merlin sad. Merlin had sworn numerous times that, if he had the option, he would never touch meat ever again. What a girl.

That night, Arthur felt more content than he had in a long time. Sitting close to Merlin by the fire was all he wanted in the world.

"I missed your smile," Merlin admitted. "It's been… hard, these past few months, hasn't it? I'm sorry you and Gwen had your falling out."

Arthur hummed against his water skin. "We didn't quarrel. It was a long time coming."

"I thought for sure you'd marry her. Gwen would make a lovely queen. She's kind, smart, caring."

 _No more than you_ , Arthur thought to himself. "It wasn't her. The fault was just as much my own."

Gods, Merlin's sunny grin made his stomach do backflips. "You're full of few words lately. Thoughtful, even. Who are you and what have you done with Arthur Pendragon?"

"I wonder."

Unsatisfied with a two-word answer, Merlin nudged Arthur's ankle with his own foot.

"Sometimes," Arthur began, staring up into the dark foliage above them, "I wonder if my heart is in the right place."

The last thing he expected Merlin to do was to lean over and press his hand against Arthur's exposed chest. The brunette pursed his lips and shook his head in his charmingly boyish manner. "Nah, I don't think so. Maybe it's in your arse."

Laughter tumbled forth from Arthur's lips despite himself.

They sat quietly for a beat before Arthur found the words he had been meaning to ask Merlin for the last five months.

"Merlin… When we went to the Isle of the Blessed, I offered my life to defeat the Dorocha. But then I saw you. You said that the Cailleach knocked me out. What really happened, Merlin? Tell me the truth."

"I…" The younger man's face crumbled. "...I knocked you out to take your place. But Lancelot-he used the commotion as a distraction and sacrificed himself first."

Somehow, that didn't surprise Arthur in the slightest. He wondered how Merlin managed to conveniently knock him out so often. But that wasn't important right now.

" _Why?_ " he demanded through gritted teeth.

"Arthur, I-"

"You're not allowed to leave me. I won't hear of it!"

Merlin's storm-blue eyes were as wide as saucers.

Arthur knew his heart wasn't in his arse. It was right here, sitting right next to him by the fire. The most he could do was sit as close as was appropriate and bask in the warmth of someone who proved time and time again that he would do absolutely _anything_ for Arthur. In all his years, he had never known a more loyal and true love than this.

Even if he could not behold it in this life, he would never forget how much Merlin meant to him.

* * *

 _One thousand five hundred years later..._

Merlin's eyes snapped open, nearly blinding him in an instant. Sunlight flooded his bedroom, touching the furthest reaches of the pale blue wall. It must be near midday.

He swore and crawled out of bed, tripping over the duvet pooled around his ankles. Damn Arthur and his penchant for collecting an excessive amount of blankets.

The honey-sweet scent of french toast quelled his annoyance. His stomach complained very loudly. He hoped Arthur had remembered to pick up some strawberries.

He wasn't disappointed. There they were, freshly washed in a colorful bowl on the counter.

"Ha!" A short bark of laughter escaped his boyfriend as he pointed a spatula at Merlin's face. "Who's the 'lazy daisy' now?"

"You could've woke me up," Merlin grumbled, snatching a slice of veggie bacon from the red ceramic plate next to the cooktop.

When he went for a second, Arthur lightly smacked his hand with the utensil. "If you fill up on that processed crap, you won't have room for a proper breakfast."

"I think you mean lunch." He didn't bother to argue over the fact that bread dipped in cinnamon sugar likely constituted dessert more-so than an actual meal.

"Fine then. _Brunch_ is served."

They listened to jazz covers of Christmas songs and watched the beautiful snowfall outside as they ate. Kilgharrah and Aithusa very much looked as though they wished to join the table; the two of them mewed pitifully and stared up at Merlin with begging eyes.

"You'll get treats later, you fiends! I fed you two hours ago," Arthur complained. Merlin suspected he might be more agitated over the jam than their cats, as he scraped the dregs of apricot from the bottom of the jar.

Merlin hid his soft smile behind a steaming mug of tea. "Thank you for breakfast, love."

"Hmm? Oh, of course. By the way, I recorded the Japanese Nationals for you last night."

Unable to help himself, Merlin bounced in his chair. "Did you see any of it? Wait, don't tell me."

He loved watching the figure skaters and secretly envied their flawless grace. As for Merlin, he would frequently trip over air; some things were never meant to be.

"It's hardly a spoiler; everybody knows Katsuki is going to win gold this year. Wait until you see the look on Nikifirov's face, though. Priceless."

Merlin grinned. While Arthur much preferred football or hockey to his "girly sport," he couldn't genuinely claim to hate it, especially not when certain skaters' entertaining love lives made the tabloids.

Their conversation turned towards tomorrow's Christmas plans; they would be hosting a small dinner with both of their mothers present. Arthur got that wistful look in his eyes that told Merlin a part of him wished his father could be there with them.

They did the washing up together, humming to the tune of "Deck the Halls." When he had finished drying the heavy pans, Merlin circled his arms around Arthur's midsection and buried his face in the back of the blonde's neck.

"I had a nice dream last night," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the wispy blond hairs at the base of Arthur's skull.

"Yeah?"

"Mmm, you gave me a present."

He could hear the Arthur's wry smile rather than see it. "Wow, you're psychic. Are you channeling your inner Morgana now? You two should divine people's fortunes and make double the money."

"Shove off."

Arthur turned the faucet off and turned around, hugging Merlin close. "As a matter of fact, I do have something for you." He laughed and pried himself away from Merlin's reluctant arms to fetch something from under the Christmas tree.

"Excuse me, but who was it who insisted waiting until midnight to touch the presents? Oh wait, that was you."

"It's Christmas Eve; I can give you a bloody single present now if I want!"

Merlin rolled his eyes at Arthur's childish behavior. He accepted the small gift nonetheless. Carefully, he tore the wrapping paper open; his mum liked to use the leftovers to make origami after the holidays.

A velvet drawstring pouch revealed itself. He set the paper down on the coffee table and opened the bag with long, nimble fingers. His heart nearly skipped a beat when he recognized the object inside.

It was exactly as he had dreamt it, cool and weighty in his hands. Light shimmered off of the pewter dove and, for an instance, it appeared to have smiled at him.

Only when Arthur called his name did he realize his lips had fallen open in shock, letting the cool air swirl around inside his mouth.

His lover appeared rather bashful, raking a hand through his golden locks. "Mum said this was passed down in our family on her side. You're supposed to give it to the person you love most, and, well… Sorry, I know it's too big to be a necklace and you can't even pin it to your-mmph-"

Merlin silenced him with a sound kiss on his soft, pouty lips. They embraced for a long time, standing in the shadow of falling snow.

When Arthur had finally recovered from his shock and embarrassment, he grinned and nuzzled his forehead against Merlin's. "If I knew you'd like it _that_ much, I'd 'ave given it to you for your birthday." Merlin's 26th had passed a few weeks back, and Arthur had gifted him a lovely neck scarf to stay warm once it snowed.

"Arthur, I dreamt you gave me this last night!"

He felt Arthur's brow furrow against his own and leaned back to look at him. "You're joking." Merlin shook his head. "Did you poke through my side of the closet to peek at your presents? Wow."

"I swear, I'm not kidding! You and I were sitting in a ruined building next to a fire and you looked sad and scared, but then I cheered you up and you gave me this." His eyes widened. "You were wearing _armor!_ "

That crooked smile Merlin loved so much made itself known on Arthur's face. "Riiiight. Was there a dragon, too?"

Merlin stuck out his tongue and playfully shoved Arthur's chest. "I was going to fetch a small present for you too, but I guess now I won't."

Arthur knew how to pout with the best of them. Merlin knew he didn't stand a chance.

"Fiiiiine." Over-dramatizing his efforts, the slimmer man reached under the tree and picked up a small box.

Honestly, Arthur was like a child when it came to Christmas presents. He tore open the paper with gusto. Merlin would have to remind him to take better care of the wrapping tomorrow.

When at last he got to the present, Arthur simply _stared._ Merlin was beginning to feel a bit self-conscious. He rubbed his hands together and frowned.

"Go ahead and make fun of me. I know it's the furthest thing from vegan. But I didn't buy it, so it doesn't count!"

"I think," Arthur choked out, "we should actually consult Morgana."

"Come again?"

Arthur grabbed Merlin's hands and kissed his nose. "I swear to God, I'm not shitting you-I dreamt last night that we were sitting by a fire in the woods. Crazy, that. And you showed me _this_."

"You're having me on… because you don't believe me."

Shaking his head with fervor, Arthur denied it. "Merlin, I promise I wouldn't make it up. Well maybe I would, but I'm really not this time. I couldn't make up how awful I felt in that dream. So unsure of myself, like I was falling apart inside. It was the strangest thing. But you made me feel better."

"Alright. Let's say I believe you… and that I don't think you're fishing for a reason to hug me. What happened that was so awful?"

Arthur thought about it for a moment. "I don't know exactly. I was feeling guilty, and I think someone we knew had died."

That _was_ awful. "Arthur," Merlin whispered softly.

"…Maybe it was the poor rabbit who gave its foot to be my new keychain."

"Oh my God, you're such a prat."

" _You're_ the one who started this."

"I should turn you into a newt."

Arthur hummed in feigned agreement. "But then I wouldn't be able to kiss you. And you would miss my face, admit it." Merlin did nothing of the sort, shutting his boyfriend up once again by very persuasive means.

Something other than the sigil stuck with Merlin from the previous night. From the way Arthur described his own vision, he had felt much the same as he looked in Merlin's dream: scared, guilty, alone. He wished Arthur would never have to feel so miserable.

And so, he would do whatever it took to chase away sadness and fear, cheering Arthur with kisses, touches, and loving words.

He could not prevent darkness and strife from affecting their lives at some point or another. Nor could he hate those moments completely, not when they made moments of joy like this one shine so much brighter in his memory.

But if Arthur ever did have to face a world of darkness again, Merlin swore he would never have to do it alone.

* * *

This is the only Merlin (and by extension Merthur) fic in the series, which is actually a shocker for me.

Feel free to spread some holiday cheer in the comments if you like. Any and all flames will fuel the fire by which my characters snuggle with their significant others.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good (morning?)!


End file.
